


the way you planned

by slutorama



Series: a world without shrimp [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: And talk, But they'd much rather lay around in bed, F/F, They're engaged and there's a lot to do, the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutorama/pseuds/slutorama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know what this is either and I'm sorry.</p>
    </blockquote>





	the way you planned

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is either and I'm sorry.

“Us. _Engaged_.” Faith shook her head as she said it, and felt the mattress dip as Tara rolled over, probably to look at her. Tara was always big on giving everyone her full attention, but Faith was more keen on glaring down the spidery cracks in their ceiling. “So, when are B and Red gonna pop outta the closet and tell me you were just fooling around when you said yes?”

“Do you think that little of me?” Tara's voice was soft, hardly even accusatory, and Faith wanted so badly to turn and look at her. If she hadn’t been so convinced that their entire evening together had been a dream, she might have.

Faith gulped hard and cracked a small smile. “Nah. I mean, you're little miss serious business over there, already planning out where we're gonna do it and everything. Probably got the cake picked out too.”

“Don’t look at me. That’s all on Anya.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously. Honestly, if we let her, she would probably take care of the whole thing for us. Which… wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Faith scoffed, “Is that what you really want? Think about the bridesmaids dresses, T. Angel won't be picking up any sassy blondes in a green garbage bag.”

At that, Faith felt Tara sitting up in bed, and she knew she couldn't avoid looking at her any longer. Faith tilted her head to see Tara sitting with her arms folded over her chest and one of her brows raised in a feeble attempt at looking intimidating. The oversized Red Sox jersey falling off one of her shoulders and the hair matted to one side of her face sort of blew up that train before it had a chance to leave the station, though.

“What?” Faith asked, intending to feign ignorance all the way to the altar, but an annoyed tilt of Tara’s head had Faith raising her hands in defeat within a few short seconds. “All right, look, Dawn showed me the pictures from Anya and Xander's shitshow of a wedding the last time she came down. It was, uh, definitely something to behold. Mostly you, but the rest of it looked like a real winner too. From what I could tell, anyway.”

Tara uncrossed her arms and yawned. “I thought Anya destroyed all the photos from that day.”

Faith shrugged. “I mean, they were burnt to hell and back, but you could still make out a couple green blobs that looked a whole hell of a lot like you and B… I guess that’ll be Angel and whoever-you-pick in a few months. Damn shame.”  

“Fine,” Tara sighed, rubbing her temples, “I'll go by the shop in the morning and give Anya a talking-to about micromanaging our big day.”

“Good.”

Tara leaned into Faith's side, and Faith felt a cold hand grazing its way across her stomach, before coming to rest below her belly button. She bit her lip to stifle a groan at the warmth surging through her insides and tried hard to focus, but _damn_ , Tara knew how to make it hard for her. As if that wasn't enough, Tara had her face burrowed in Faith's neck, and her gentle breathing left trails of goosebumps on Faith’s exposed skin.

“If Anya's not planning it,” Tara whispered, soft but still oh-so seductive, “That means we have to take care of things.”

Faith swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Do you think you can manage, sweetie?”

“Manage what?”

“Focusing.” Tara placed a light kiss on Faith's neck, and it was like lightning to her already-heightened senses. “On wedding planning. With me… right _here_.”

“Ugh, no.” Faith reluctantly broke contact with Tara and shoved her away, shaking her head as she grunted out her response. “Not with you toying with me and shit. C'mon, T. You know I got needs here.”

“I just wanted to cuddle.” Tara tried to appear hurt, but a soft smile gave her away.

“How 'bout in the morning?” Faith tried, grasping Tara's hand in hers to bring her back. “We could do lots of wedding planning over breakfast. There’s nothing less sexy than breakfast.”

Tara cocked a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

“You want it to be?”

“Maybe. I could ask Anya and see what she thinks.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Whoa, no. Anya’s advice is shit, anyways, and she won’t shut up about whatever you tell her for _weeks_ . Like the last time you went to her about us? I didn't stop hearing about me… uh, _you know_ …”

“Being early?” Tara giggled.

Faith simply glared. “Can it.”

“It's not my fault she's the only person around here I can talk to about… well, anything. Buffy and the rest of the gang are all over the world doing superhero stuff and we're here… with Anya… and the Magic Box 2.0, which I’m starting to doubt as ever becoming profitable, so she might be out of here soon, too.”

“Can’t blame a girl for loving her cash.”

Tara bit her lip and nodded, like she was admitting to something horrible. “Yeah.”

“You feelin' some regret?” Faith asked, genuinely curious. Tara had never voiced disappointment in their decision to stay near the Cleveland Hellmouth after everything went to hell in Sunnydale, but Faith had also never thought to ask. “‘Cause if you ever wanna get outta here, you know I’m for it. I don’t care where we are, as long as I’ve got a few vamps around to kill. And you.”

“Oh, no, sweetie. Of course not. I’m plenty happy here. I guess… in a way… I feel like we could be doing more right now, with fighting the good fight and all, but I also feel like I did m-my part already, you know?” Tara's body stilled. “I… I died.”

“Don’t knock it.” Faith gave Tara a nudge. “Death’s a way better price to pay than a coma.”

Tara smirked. “We’re going to be ninety years old and still arguing over which is worse, aren’t we?”

“God, I hope not,” Faith groaned, “If you haven’t figured out my side by then, I probably died before I could get it into your thick head.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Tara explained, “I don’t want either of us to be dead. I want to yell at you until I’m red in the face about how being ripped out of heaven sucks way more than waking up from a stupid coma. That you totally deserved, by the way.”

Faith froze. “Not now, right? I mean, fair judgment and all, but _damn_ , what a mood killer.”

Tara laughed, “No way. Especially since we have forever to spend arguing over it now.”

“And you’re cool with ‘forever’ being on the Cleveland Hellmouth? Far, far away from all the crazy stuff B and everyone’s getting into?”

“Definitely. I sucked at demon fighting, anyway.” Tara licked her lips and looked to Faith seriously. “And you? You’re still okay with us staying here?”

Faith bared her teeth and shrugged. “Hey, it’s like I said: as long as I got a few demons to knock around and you to mack on, I’m good. That Spartan lone slayer stuff just ain’t me anymore, T.”

Tara smiled again. “I’m glad.”

“We should invite everyone, though, right?” Faith thumbed Tara's palm carefully. “The whole demon fighting family?”

“Yeah. Otherwise it's just going to be us and Anya.” Tara’s smile faded, and her gaze fell to the floor. “I've been trying really hard not to think about who to invite. When Anya asked about the guest list I couldn't even think of any names at first.”

Faith shrugged. “We've been a couple of loners all our lives. No big.”

“It's a 'big' when we rent a place for our wedding and don't have anyone to fill it with,” Tara said, sounding like she’d been stewing over this for years rather than just the few short hours since Faith had proposed, “Most of the people I knew in Sunnydale are dead, and it's not like I'm going to send an invitation to m-my dad.”

Faith winced at the mention.

“Or my brother,” Tara added quickly, and Faith had to swallow the lump building in her throat. She could feel the tremble in Tara's hand as she spoke, the way she was still deathly afraid of her family, even with a slayer at her side and thousands of miles between her and the Maclay men. “Or… anyone.”

“No family,” Faith said curtly, “Not if you don’t want.”

“Is that selfish of me?” Tara asked, turning to face Faith fully and looking smaller than she had before. Her hair was falling in front of her eyes, and the baseball jersey had finally slipped off one of her shoulders, which might have been a cute look for her if she hadn’t been shaking so damn bad.

“Nah.” Faith shook her head. “You don't owe ‘em anything, T.”

“I… I guess.” Tara sighed and shook her head. “I just don't know what I'd be more afraid of, um, if I invited them. Either m-my dad shows up and brings all the men in the family to drag me home once and for all, or-”

“He doesn’t show at all.” Faith nodded. “I get that. If I invited mine, he wouldn't. That, or he’d get the invite and catch the next bus out here. You know, 'cause weddings cost money and he's probably hard up for some right about now. ”

Tara squeezed Faith’s hand. “It’s… it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“And we don't need 'em. Never did.” Faith nodded. “You've got B and Red and the funny pirate, and I've got Angel and Wes and their crew. We could do something small, you know? Just us and our friends. Plus Anya.”

The frown that had been deepening on Tara's face evaporated in an instant, replaced by a bright smile that had Faith melting right there. “We could go anywhere.”

“Yeah. Doesn't even have to be Cleveland since everyone's gonna fly in from every inch of the globe, anyway. We gotta stick to nighttime, or else my maid of honor won't be able to show, but still. We got options, babe.”

“I like options.”

Faith yawned, loud and obnoxious, and Tara laughed.

“Maybe we should go over all of those options in the morning?” Tara pecked at Faith's neck again, three rushed kisses that made Faith swoon despite them being of the rapid-fire variety, “Over our non-sexy breakfast.”

Faith smirked. “I'm down.”

“Are you sure?”

“Whataya mean?”

Tara paused, like she was searching for the right words, before giving Faith a tense smile as she spoke. “That you're, uh, ‘down’? I don't know, somehow you seem more prepared for this than me. I never really saw us getting married until you actually proposed… which isn’t an insult to our relationship or anything. I just… I didn’t realize it was in the cards. For _us_.”

“I didn’t either,” Faith admitted, “I was never the type of girl to think about weddings and stuff.”

“And you think I was?”

Faith smirked. “You were a huge honkin’ lesbo, T. Not a whole lot of room for dreaming up your wedding day when you think you’re supposed to be with some boy.”

“What about you, then?”

“Girls like me don’t get married,” Faith said, swallowing hard when she spotted her pair of motorcycle boots parked next to the doorway, “We just don’t.”

“But _you_ are.”

“Yeah.” Faith bit her lip and glanced down at her hands restlessly, before looking up at Tara again with wary eyes. “I love you, you know? And I’m not gonna Hallmark card my way through this marriage thing, ‘cause that’s not me, but you’re okay with that. You’re okay with _me_. And if I don’t wife you up now, someone else is gonna come along and try for you, and I’ll be damned if that happens.

“You're such a sap.”

“You didn’t even let me get to the part about how good the honeymoon’s gonna be.”

Tara pouted, and Faith had spent enough bedroom-time with Tara Maclay to know exactly what that meant. “Do we have to wait until the honeymoon?”

“Don’t test me. You know I suck at waiting.”

“Right. _Early_ bird. That’s my Faith.” Tara said, the hint of challenge in her voice unmistakable.

Faith couldn't let that one slide, and wrestled her hands onto Tara's hips hungrily. “For that, I'm gonna take things slow and steady. You’ll be begging for it.”

“Don't oversell your talents.” Tara challenged. “You wouldn't want to disappoint.”

Faith dipped her head to kiss Tara, but ended up pulling back at the very last second, just to smirk down at her as if she really planned on pacing herself for once. “So, who are you picking for your maid of honor? Your ex, or president of the dead girls club?”

Tara rolled her eyes and reached up to grasp both sides of Faith’s head. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“So… Anya, then?”

“ _Faith_.”


End file.
